


In The Morning I'll Call You

by annemari



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemari/pseuds/annemari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a tap against Pete's window. Pete opens it and leans on the windowsill, looking out at the backyard. A dark shape whizzes past him. Pete takes a deep breath and shuts the window before turning around and walking back to his desk.</p>
<p>"Dude," comes Gabe's voice. "Dude, is this fucking sugar-free?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Morning I'll Call You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Trope Bingo, for the prompt "au: were / vamp / supernatural". Inspired by [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gDcHvNJowNg&feature=player_embedded) where Pete says the trick to get Gabe to come over is to put vodka and Red Bull on your windowsill. Thanks to **alpheratz** for looking this over for me! Title from Bon Iver's _The Wolves (Act I And II)_.

There's a tap against Pete's window. Pete opens it and leans on the windowsill, looking out at the backyard. A dark shape whizzes past him. Pete takes a deep breath and shuts the window before turning around and walking back to his desk.

"Dude," comes Gabe's voice. "Dude, is this fucking sugar-free?"

Pete looks up at Gabe frowning at the Red Bull.

"They were out of the regular."

"How the fuck do they run out of regular Red Bull?"

Pete shrugs, and Gabe downs the Red Bull in one go before reaching for the vodka. Pete turns back to his notebook. He's been working on new lyrics, and his head's a mess tonight, and the last thing he needs is Gabe fucking Saporta all up in his business.

Yet, there was still a part of him that grabbed the vodka and Red Bull and set them on the windowsill. Pete wants to punch that part in the face.

Gabe puts the shot glass down with a clink and asks, "So, can I bite you?"

Gabe's been asking that since the first night.

("Can't you just live off that?"

"Vodka and Red Bull? I'm a fucking vampire, dude. That means blood.")

Pete frowns. "We have a show tomorrow."

"So?"

"So, I know drinking from someone messes them up—like, for a day or two at least."

"Like that would make any difference in your playing, dude." 

Pete throws a pencil at him. Gabe catches it easily. 

"You trying to kill me, dude?"

Pete grits his teeth. "Maybe."

"Well, that was a pretty pathetic attempt."

"The fuck do you _want_ , Gabe?"

Gabe smirks. "You're the one who invited me."

Pete shakes his head. He doesn't know why he did. "Whatever. You didn't have to come."

"Yeah, I did," Gabe says. "You know how it works."

Pete clenches his hand into a fist, then he shakes out his fingers and grabs a pen. He doesn't know how it works. He knows what Gabe _said_ , that vampires hone in on certain things, things you can then call them with, and that for Gabe it's fucking Red Bull and vodka, but that doesn't mean Pete knows exactly how it fucking _works_ or what it means.

One thing he does know is that Gabe has always come when Pete's called, has sat around and generally annoyed Pete—and listened to him, properly _listened_ —and has asked to bite Pete. Pete's always said no.

He also knows why he's said no, and it's not because he doesn't want to be bitten. He met Gabe years ago, in the back alley of a club. Pete caught him right after Gabe had fed, his fangs showing and blood around his mouth. Gabe grinned, and ended up inviting himself over. Pete never figured out how to uninvite a vampire, but he also never figured out how to turn a no into a yes.

"You know," Gabe says. "If I drank from you, that would relax you. Endorphins. Or whatever the fuck. Like sex."

Pete raises his head and stares at Gabe. "Fuck you."

"Well, we could do that later. But I'm really hungry tonight, dude."

Pete rolls his eyes.

"Seriously, I was this close to drinking from someone and then you called."

Pete blinks. "What? You were—out on my street?" He'd set the drinks out hours ago.

Gabe snorts. "No, dude, I was in New York."

Pete puts down his pen and swivels his chair to face Gabe. "What?"

"I was...in New York?" Gabe repeats.

"I—then how could you see my fucking window?"

Gabe furrows his brow. "I couldn't. I could feel you."

"You—what?"

"That's how it _works_ , dude, I told you."

"You didn't tell me shit!" Pete yells. "You said you come when you—when I set—what the fuck?"

Gabe rolls his eyes. "The drinks are a link. Something for both of us to focus on. The call comes from _you_."

Pete shakes his head. "I—what the fuck ever, man." So Gabe can fucking—hear him or _feel_ him or whatever. Pete doesn't know what to do about that. "Just fucking go."

"Come on, dude," Gabe says. "I flew here from fucking New York."

"I didn't fucking know you were—that—fuck you, okay. Just leave." Pete pushes away from the desk and gets up to go open the window. Before he can take a step, there's a rush of wind and suddenly he's pressed up against the wall, Gabe's hands on his shoulders.

Pete gasps for air. Gabe leans down and presses his lips to Pete's ear. Pete shivers, and Gabe asks, carefully enunciating every word, "Can I bite you?"

Gabe's so fucking tall, looming over him, and he's strong—of course he's strong, he's a fucking vampire—and Pete wants nothing more than for Gabe to bite him.

"Fuck you," Pete says, glaring up at Gabe.

Gabe smiles at him. "Like I said. Later." He slides his hands down to Pete's hips, and pushes his leg between Pete's thighs. Pete gasps at the pressure against his dick and automatically tilts his head, exposing his neck. It feels like it takes forever for Gabe to lean down, but then he presses his lips to Pete's neck. Pete jumps at the touch—he'd expected teeth.

"Shh," Gabe says. Pete can barely hear him over his own heavy breathing, the sound of his heartbeat.

"Just fucking do it."

Teeth scrape against his skin and Pete gasps. He can't stop himself from grabbing Gabe's wrists, Gabe's hands still on his hips, fingers digging into the soft skin above the waistband of his sleep pants.

"Do it," Pete repeats. "Fucking do it already, please, please."

"Shh," Gabe says again. "I got you." And then he sinks his teeth in.

It hurts. It hurts a fuckton, and Pete wants to scream, and he wants to claw at Gabe's arms and thrash around, and he never wants it to stop.

At some point Gabe pulls him away from the wall and wraps his arms around Pete. Pete's not sure how long Gabe's been drinking, and he doesn't care, doesn't at all. The pain has subsided into the kind that's just turning Pete on, yet he's in no rush to get off, he just wants—this.

He barely registers it when Gabe stops, the only thing indicating it the feel of tongue on his wounds. Gabe's not pulling away. That's all that matters.

"Come on," Gabe's saying. "Come on, let's—" Gabe lifts him up into his arms, and Pete lets out a soft whimper. So fucking good.

"Yeah?" Gabe asks. "So good for me too, babe, so good."

Gabe settles Pete in bed, and Pete tries valiantly to open his eyes, to see the expression on Gabe's face. It's hard but he manages. Gabe's kneeling over him, and Pete smiles. "Better than I thought it'd be," Pete says.

"I aim to please," Gabe says, and moves to lie down next to Pete.

"I doubt that," Pete says, and Gabe laughs.

"Well, among other things."

Pete can't stop his eyes from falling shut. He shakes his head, hoping to clear it, but that just makes him feel dizzy, even though he's lying down.

"You should rest," Gabe says. His voice is oddly soft.

"Thought—we were gonna fuck," Pete says, and rolls towards Gabe. Gabe's warm, so fucking warm.

Gabe presses a kiss to his neck. "Later."

Pete buries his face against Gabe's chest and drifts off.


End file.
